made of stone
by in cages
Summary: oo1. tomorrow she will survive. but tonight she's going to forget -—levipetra [one-shot collection]


**an** : this is a wee one shot/drabble that i wrote recently whilst ill  
 **an2** : i know this pairing is hella dead, but i still like writing for them so w/e  
(p.s this might be where i put all my levi/petra one shots if i get the time to write any more)  
(also wow sorry bout all the hyphens and brackets—i luv em)

* * *

 _when you're losing and your fuse is fireside_

.

.

.

she's outside his room again.

her back is pressed flush against the cold wall, fingers entwined in front of her. her eyes are closed and have been since she got here, but the pulse beneath her skin is a drum. behind the door she can hear the sound of ink pen scratching quickly against rough paper. there's a glow from beneath the door, illuminating a spot on the wall, from where his candle must be burning beside him.

it's always the same — she'll stand here for a few minutes (that feel like fucking _hours_ ) before she can finally grasp some goddamn courage to knock.

(it's funny how she can fight titans but visiting her captain scares the living shit out of her, isn't it.)

today, however, he senses her presence without the knock.

"if you're going to come in, just fucking come in already," she hears him say. although his words are sharp (rude even) his tone isn't. he sounds tired, almost exhausted, and petra bites her lip in worry.

being caught isn't so bad when she knows, if even a little, that he wants her to be there.

she turns around and presses her palm flat against the wood. she pauses for a moment, sucking in some air, and then pushes the door off its latch and steps into the warmly lit room. as usual it smells of burning wax and ink, a smell petra is beginning to associate entirely with levi ackerman. her hands are still clasped together respectfully and she knows she doesn't need to be formal now, but dropping formalities after having them ingrained into her for so long is _hard._

(and she knows he's going to pull her up on it anyway.)

levi signs off his signature at the bottom of the paper and sighs, running a hand through his hair. he looks very human—raw, unravelled and exposed—but it's become a bad habit not to think of him as one when she watches him in the field. because she's never met anyone like him; he cuts through slews of titans at unnatural speeds, without feeling anything, his expression set in hard lines and frowns, eyes the colour of the bottom of the ocean. when he is her captain she forgets he isn't a human who feels like she does.

but when the moon is out and she visits him past hours he is every bit as human as she is, and when his gaze locks with hers she can practically _feel_ him, every part of him, with clarity.

levi stands up and rolls his shoulders from sitting for too long. he eyes her posture and snorts (like she knew he would) and he doesn't need to say anything for her to walk towards him. her steps are long, like she hasn't seen him for the longest time, and when she reaches him there's no hesitation any more. his body reacts to her like the ocean to the shore—every night, she's here and he's waiting.

petra's hand reaches out for his cheek but he catches it between his own. his hands always feel rough (whether from hours of signing papers or from gripping his blades too tightly) and calloused, but when they hold her it's always gently. he brings her fingers to his lips and softly grazes them, eyes slowly closing.

her heart aches as she watches him.

some time between joining his squad and travelling and fighting with him, petra grew extremely fond of levi — he taught her everything he knew and never sugarcoated anything. he pushed her until her bones were weak and tears fell, but he was never unfair or unjust. he did everything he did because he wanted his team to survive and be the best goddamn team they could be.

and soon that fondness grew (though she'd be hard pressed to admit it to anyone) and because her captain has always been perceptive, he saw right through all of her attempts to hide her affections.

(and one day he told her to see him late at night and kissed her like he might not see tomorrow.)

petra traces circles into his skin as he finds peace in the quiet between them.

she breaks that silence after a moment. "you're working too hard," she murmurs. he looks like he might collapse but she knows better. levi has survived a long time on little sleep and lots of caffeine (and probably a few _other_ substances) so this statement is more out of habit.

his smile is weary, tired. "why don't you tell erwin that," he opens his eyes and there's sarcasm and humour reflected in them. petra rolls her eyes and gently tugs her hand away.

he sighs again, suddenly serious. "stop worrying about me. only ever worry about yourself," he tells her firmly.

petra crosses her arms. "that's not going to happen."

levi holds her stare for a beat. "y'know, when i first met you i thought you were a stubborn brat," he leans against the table and mimics her crossed arms. he sounds awfully casual, which means whatever comes next is either and insult, a command or an attempt at humour. or all three. levi smirks, and she _knows_ what's coming before it does. "and i still think that now. but i also want to fuck you into submission now too."

despite herself petra blushes, angry that he still holds this reaction over her.

(she loves him— _god_ she loves him—but she also wants to kick his ass too.)

"cap— _levi,_ " she hisses, correcting herself before he can mock her any more. "if you're so good at talking, why don't you put that tongue to good use instead."

and _fuck_ does she love how easily she can rile him up too.

(this is what she likes the best about him. he relies on her without saying a thing, he trusts her to have his back in battle, he touches her like she might fall apart, but he also talks to her because he knows she's a match that can both take it and outwit him from time to time. between them, they can go from silent comfort to spitting insults and talking dirty like it's nothing.

and she never wants it to end.)

"duly noted," he says dully. but he approaches her quickly, eyes narrowed and dark, his gaze entirely captured by her.

and he kisses her fiercely. his mouth is hot on her skin, a trail of kisses that start at the corner of her mouth and ends at the junction of her throat. his fingers are nimble, experienced, as they press into her. he has her body flush against his own and every inch of it is solid and warm — she wants to fucking _melt_ into him, only ever exist in this moment, where the candlelight flickers across his skin and his tongue explores her body like a ship in the ocean.

tomorrow she will survive.

but tonight she's going to forget.


End file.
